


The Smallest of Changes

by Loveatfirstbook



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Background Beadick, Donalduke - Freeform, F/M, Possibly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveatfirstbook/pseuds/Loveatfirstbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the grand scheme of things, it was an insignificant action. Just a sentence and a white lie. But they say that it's the little things that make all the difference. They're right.</p>
<p>Takes place during NMTD, beginning during 'Project II - One Shot'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Therapist

“I’d like to meet your friends next session, John.” Ten chilling words sent his mind reeling. His counsellor, a psychology major fresh out of college, probably had good intentions. Miss Jubilee – or Zoe as she preferred to be called – was so new to Messina that it was likely she didn’t know that he was close to friendless. “What are their names?”

Keeping his face blank, he numbered his options. Telling her he didn’t really like people enough to be friends was out, as was telling her to get lost. John glanced out the window over the counsellor’s shoulder, eyes sweeping for someone he might persuade into lying for him. The golden-haired Pedro spoke to his gathered court, one of whom caught John’s eye. “Hero Duke.”

John’s therapist, straightening her emerald green glasses, spoke no more of his friends and their sessions resumed their usual pattern. The usual questions concerning his school work and his future were discussed to a tedious length, so much so that he began to zone out after a short period of time.

He watched through the window as two figures, blurred by the distance, bickered until lunch and John’s session finished. John hated his brother’s social power that allowed him to referee all, his friends included, while he was left as an outcast under his brother’s rule. The topic of the pair’s argument was the object of John’s thoughts as he trudged out of the locker room later that day, paying no heed to the world around him. 

Perhaps that was why he jumped when a small hand came to briefly rest on his shoulder. “John, are you alright?”

His vision focused on the blonde in front of him. Almost as if the meeting was fated, Hero stood with concern mapped over her face as they stood still amid the traffic to leave the room. “What?” he breathed.

“You look Atlas, with the world held on your shoulders. Do you need help with something?” Hero asked. He’d spent the last few hours strategizing how to get her to talk to him and she offered the opportunity on a platter because he looked troubled, no strings attached. As much as John hated to admit it, Pedro was right about Hero’s personality. (Although his half-brother would be praising Beatrice and Balthazar more than Hero when he complimented her.)

He couldn’t ask her in a crowd like this; there were ears everywhere. It would be wiser to talk to her while they did something else, when there was no chance of Claudio watching his every move. “It’s just that poetry analysis we have to do for English. I’ve done most of it but there’s one Shakespeare poem that’s almost written in another language.”

This was no lie either. Finishing the poem had been his primary focus until he met with Zoe.

Hero’s concern quickly transforms into a warm smile. “If you’d like, I can help you with that. I’m going to the library now to work on my own poems as well if you’d like to join me.”

“That would be great.” And returning her generous smile, the pair took off.


	2. Sonnet 130

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Yay for free time! I intend to update about once a week but we'll see how that goes as we progress through the year.
> 
> Hope you like it!

“So which one is it?” Hero asked expectantly. They sat on the threadbare couch with their work covering every inch of the scuffed timber coffee table, both of which had hosted decades of Messina High students in cramming sessions before exam times. For now, though, he and Hero were the sole occupants of the well-lit corner of the library.

Hopefully she wouldn’t take it too badly when he asked for a favour after discussing the poem. He may need her one day in his plan to take down his brother and Hero’s innocent traits may make quite the asset, should she choose to help him. However John wouldn’t outright force her to talk to Miss Jubilee. But if she refused, he was not quite above manipulation or, failing that, lying to the therapist.

John reached across to indicate the poem before quickly retracting his hand. “Sonnet 130. My problem isn’t with finding metaphors or anything but I don’t really understand why the poem is written like that.”

Hero’s brow wrinkled slightly, reminding him of a rabbit for some reason. “What do you mean?”

“As far as beauty standards are concerned for Shakespeare’s time, he’s trying to say that he thinks she’s plain. It’s almost like he’s calling her the opposite of beauty. I don’t understand why you’d do that to someone you claim to love.”

“I don’t think you quite understand the theme of the poem, John,” Hero replied. 

“Just listen to some of the poem.

_I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,_

_But no such roses see I in her cheeks;_

_And in some perfumes is there more delight_

_Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks._

_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_

_That music hath a far more pleasing sound,”_ John read. He paused for a moment before adding, “I don’t see why Shakespeare would write something advertising the flaws of the woman he claims to love.”

His eyes unfocused as John tried to divine meaning from the page in front of him. Hero was being unusually still and, when he glanced at her, John found her wide blue eyes staring at him. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you speak for that long without stopping before.” After her initial shock wore off, Hero took stock of the words that had left her mouth and began backtracking. “That’s not to say that it’s a bad thing! You have a nice voice but you generally don’t speak often. So it’s good to hear you speak.”

John’s facial muscles contracted slightly to raise the left corner of his mouth. Hero was so cautious about what she said, so eager to repair any relationships she may have unwittingly caused damage to, that it would be child’s play to convince her to attend the counselling session should she outright refuse.

“I’m sorry to put this harshly, John, but I don’t think you’re quite right,” Hero interrupted his train of thought. “You’re ignoring meaning of the rest of the poem.

_I grant I never saw a goddess go;_

_My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:_

_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_

_As any she belied with false compare.”_

His eyes unfocused in her general direction, failing to see her point. “And?” he drawled.

“It means that Shakespeare knows that the lady is human, which in this case probably symbolises the acknowledgement that she’s flawed. It’s this that makes the final couplet the most romantic part of the poem,” Hero sighed and smiled out to the greenery. Her flushed face was motionless for that moment, absorbed in her thoughts so John had a moment to study her. The evening light – for evening had fallen whilst they discussed poetry – illuminated Hero’s hair as a halo and her pale eyes appeared to be focused on something just out of John’s sight. She blinked and they were alert once more and trained on him. “What do you think the couplet means, John?”

“Well, ‘by heaven’ is a phrase to swear what he says is true,” John began cautiously, receiving a nod in return. He felt like this was some kind of test and desperately wished to pass. “’My love’ refers to love of the same magnitude as Shakespeare’s for the lady. The phrase ‘any she belied with false compare’ refers to any woman, not simply Shakespeare’s love, who is told lies about her beauty. So it means that love of that magnitude is commonplace.”

“Not exactly,” Hero replied in a regretful tone. “The couplet means that Shakespeare’s love of the woman is as rare as a woman who has been told lines such as ‘she is more beautiful than the sun’. It’s not a rare occurrence so Shakespeare is making a comparison that his love is that bountiful. He loved the lady deeply, faults and all.”

Poetic words and nothing more, John believed them to be. Who could love someone that much? John believed that if ever such a connection existed in any capacity, it had long since disappeared from society. No one could ever love him completely. His mother had once claimed that connection with him but no more was it so, her words and actions towards their parting forever severing their relationship. And John would never give anyone the opportunity being almost that close to him again.

By the time John’s internal monologue had finished rambling on, he became aware that Hero was talking again and stuffing her things into her bag. “… I really am sorry to do this to you but Beatrice is panicking about the cooking and it’ll be ruined if I’m not home soon. I’m sorry, John, but I have to go. Bye.”

Just like that, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sticking with the story so far. Feel free to leave CONSTRUCTIVE criticism in the comments below. Have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading. Have a lovely day!


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